


this is my work on such a night

by irnan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/pseuds/irnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All in all it's been a hugely successful sort of weekend: first James and Lily get their memories back, then their son, and now Moony. On the downside, all three of these marvels come with a war included free of charge in the packaging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is my work on such a night

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "a quarter moon of light"

**August**

“You know that theory about Voldemort having done this was rubbish, don’t you,” James said. Evening at the Burrow; the stars were out and the wind was warm. Molly Weasley had welcomed them with open arms and set to feeding all three of their children without a second’s hesitation; Remus had left some time ago, red-eyed and reluctant. Lily and James were at the bottom of the garden, leaning on the fence and watching the crescent moon rise.

“Yes,” said Lily.

“Dumbledore died on June 30th, Remus said.”

“That’s when I jumped that gap.”

“Yes.”

“It was him.”

James’ hands shook – he wrapped them around the fence and clung on fiercely, knowing she was right, knowing he’d give anything to be able to prove her wrong, knowing that telling Harry would wreck every speck of trust he had in the man and likely send him careening right off the path he had already told them he had chosen to take.

The path they all knew he had to stick to now at any cost. It was too late to put any other plan in motion; too late to do anything but rail at the man who had invented it in the first place.

 _Gods, how I’ve changed. How we’ve both changed. Put up with this twenty years ago, never._

 _We’ve no other choice_.

“I know,” he said.

 

 **September**

“Oh, God, I remember this,” said James, gleeful – perhaps excessively so, considering where they were.  The kitchen at Grimmauld Place was a gloomy and a dank affair. He couldn’t claim to like it that Harry, Ron and Hermione were here; how Padfoot had hated this house, and no wonder. How much he’d had to endure in it... “I really honestly remember it. You don’t know how good that feels. It was one of the first things your Mum remembered, and I felt like a rat afterwards... fancy not remembering my own son’s first birthday. Damn, I was proud of you when you smashed that vase. Hideous thing. Evans wouldn’t take it down – her stubborn streak for you.”

Harry laughed. “What about the letter – what was it Mum couldn’t believe about Dumbledore?”

“Hmm,” said James. “Dunno – oh, hang on. She said once he’d been friends with Gellert Grindelwald – you know, the Dark Wizard? I should sodding well hope not. Half our family died in that war. My Dad was the eldest of eight, but only he and Uncle Charlie came through it. None of Mum’s three sisters did.”

“Grindelwald...” said Harry. “Muriel said something, I think – at the wedding.”

“Oh, _Muriel_ ,” James said dismissively. “Batty old cow. And she was that before you were born, even... Dad used to lock himself in the study when she came to one of Mum’s parties. After the first one I started joining him.”

Harry laughed. “Hey, I forgot to say – I was thinking earlier, about that thing in Norfolk you said you were taking on? You ought to take the Invisibility Cloak.”

James laughed. “How on earth did that get to you? The Map was only fate, I suppose...”

“Dumbledore gave it to me my first Christmas at Hogwarts. Said you’d left it in his possession, and it was time it was returned to me.”

“Hmm.” James tipped his mug, abruptly thoughtful, watched the hot chocolate swirl and settle. Time it was returned to Harry: the inheritance that never was... god, they’d had a wrangle sorting out the vault, too. Harry had wanted to hand the whole thing back to parents, and had looked delighted to be able to do so; in the end James and Lily had got Bill to open a second vault under what they both had come to refer to as their Dublin names, and put the majority of the money in there, along with the exchanged money from their Irish Muggle accounts. Harry had kept everything that Sirius had left him and a tidy amount on top of that.

And now they were hidden once more in the wizarding world; oh for the day he got to face Severus Snape across a battlefield and watch the murdering, bullying wanker’s expression when he recognised James. He flexed his fingers around his mug and felt the warmth in the porcelain seeping into his skin. God, so many secrets: Fidelius Charms, whereabouts and missions, Remus’ pale face on his doorstep ( _Prongs I don’t – I can’t – Dora’s –_ ) just like old times, and Lily’s look that was all he needed for comfort, for strength. (All any of the Marauders had needed, time and time again.)

Suddenly he said, “My Mum used to say it was one of the Deathly Hallows.”

Harry looked up, surprised. “You what?”

“The Cloak,” James explained. “Actually, her mother, that’s Anne McKinnon in case you’re wondering, used to say it was a Deathly Hallows, handed down by her mother in turn... apparently I was the first boy to take possession of the Cloak in a good few generations. Anyway, Mum and I used to have a right laugh about it. Playing Deathly Hallows was one of my favourite games when I was about five. I was Ignotus Peverell for at least a week once. Dad started calling me Iggy.”

Harry was smiling at him, oddly sad. “Dad, I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve no idea what a Deathly Hallows is.”

James caught his eye, increasingly familiar guilt and grief roiling in his stomach. _Oh, Harry, I should’ve been there to read that for you when you were a child – should’ve been the one to give you that Cloak – should’ve done so many things for you that I did for Joan and David._

 _Sirius would have read you the tale and passed you the Cloak and whispered of a stag and a wolf and a dog running free under a hunter’s moon, had Dumbledore not taken you away from him_.

He smiled at his son. “It’s a fairy tale – you remember that symbol your friend Luna’s Dad was wearing at the wedding? Well, the triangle...”

But neither missed childhood nor fear nor grief was going to steal this away from them: twenty-four hours in his son’s company, and perhaps for half of them they might even forget – might even hope.

 

 **November**

Any idea Lily might have had that November at Seaview would be quiet and safe was rather rapidly blown into bits with the blessed arrival of Harry, Ron and Hermione: windswept, snow-covered, painfully thin, they stood shivering in the kitchen between one bite of mince pie and the next, and Davey’s shout when he saw his brother was loud enough to bring the ceiling down.

“You look like death, you three,” said James, watching them huddle in blankets before the fire. “What’s happened?”

“Erm,” said Harry, evasive.

“Harry jumped in a frozen pond,” said Ron dryly.

“Ron ran off,” Hermione said sweetly.

“Ron destroyed a Horcrux,” said Harry. “There was a Patronus in the woods – a doe, like Mum’s, I thought it was you.”

“I,” said Lily. “No. Harry love, I’ve no idea...”

Not quite true. But it was hardly the time to speak of Sev to her son – her son who hated him and was hated by him. Still, if he’d helped Harry...

(She knew Sev well enough to know it hadn’t been for Harry’s sake. Suspicion coiling in her gut like a snake, remembering that Dumbledore had taken their son away from them and from Sirius and left him to rot in the care of people who despised him. Remembering Sev himself: _come, come with me, stop this, I’ll leave I will, we both will, you that bastard and me the Dark Lord_...)

She glanced at James, and was surprised at the look on his face: seldom had she seen him so grim. “I, however, have a fairly clear idea of what a Horcrux is,” he said quietly.

(... _say you’ll go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again_. Oh, you two, more similar than you’d like to admit... once. Once upon a time. I didn’t want you to stop hurting people for me. I wanted you to stop hurting people because it was the right thing to do. One of you did and the other didn’t, Sev, and it’s as simple and as complicated as that.)

Harry winced. Hermione and Ron were exchanging looks. James’ face hardened as looked at his son, and Harry was looking back at him with green eyes gone very wide behind his glasses, waiting for – what?

“Well?” James said softly.

It was a voice Joan and Davey would have known, the brooks-no-argument voice; it was a voice the Order had come to know well, that the Marauders had always known well. It was the voice that had flung Voldemort’s offers coldly back in his face and looked him in those red glowing eyes and said, _Never, for your promises are poison and your words are lies_.

For an instant, Harry hovered on the verge of giving in. Lily watched him lick his lips, watched him open his mouth. Then, suddenly, he shut it again. Swallowed hard and turned his head: not, as she’d thought, in a shake, but to Ron and Hermione.

Take that, Prongs – beaten at your own game by a seventeen-year-old wizard sitting freezing in his father’s dressing gown and a dilapidated blanket.

Lily grinned to herself and had to avoid catching James’ eye for the duration. Maybe two years ago he would have listened, but he’s more your son now than he knows.

A silent conference was taking place on the hearthrug : unreadable expressions and minute shifts in position as plain as words between these three, plain as they’d always be between herself and James, between James and Moony.

Finally, Harry gave way. “You-Know-Who has six,” he said. “Had. Had six. We’ve destroyed two. Dumbledore destroyed another. That leaves three more. And there’s no point facing him before we’ve got them all.”

James had gone pale. “Six...” he said. “Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell.” He caught at the armchair and sat down sharply, staring at their son. “That’s what Dumbledore wants you to do.”

Harry nodded.

“Neither can live while the other...”

“I don’t know yet how that comes into it,” said Harry.

Silence again, horrified this time. James looked as if he’d been punched.

Lily sighed.

“Which I’m sure is all very good and valuable information,” she said dryly, “but if you want me to understand a word of it someone in this room is going to have to tell the idiot Muggle-born what exactly a Horcrux is.”

 

 **February**

 _I open at the close._

Someone stepped up behind him; a well-remembered voice said, “Harry Potter.”

Sirius.

He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at his mother.

“ _No!_ ”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “It’s all right. I promise you. You’ve been so brave, and it’s almost over.”

“Joanie,” he said, and let the tears come. “David...”

“Remus and Dora will keep them both safe,” said Dad gently. “And, Harry – when this is over, when He is dead and they go to Hogwarts for the first time, without fear, they will understand what we died for.”

Harry was crying so much he was shaking. “I _just_ found you...”

“And now you’re coming home with us,” said Mum. “Dry your eyes, Harry. We’ll never leave you, love. Never.”

“Does – does it hurt?”

“Dying?” asked Sirius. “No. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”

“You’ll stay with me? They won’t see you?”

“Until the very end,” said Dad. “They’ll never know we’re with you. That’s what makes the difference between you and them, Harry.”

Harry shivered, and swallowed back his tears, and rubbed at his eyes with his hands, filthy, burnt and bleeding. Then, trembling still, he put one foot in front of the other and began to walk.

 

 **September**

“Right,” said Harry. “Right, you’ve got everything, you two, wands books robes, of course you have, ignore me.”

“Happily,” said Joanie, grinning. “We’ve got _everything_ , Harry. And Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna are all going to be there you know, just because you and Ron can’t be bothered to finish school...”

Harry laughed. Davey was shuffling beside him, trying desperately to hide his excitement.

“And by this evening we’ll be Gryffindors!” he burst out.

“You’d better be, or Mum and Dad might haunt us.”

“They’d be welcome,” Joan said suddenly.

Harry smiled at her, pushed a hank of messy black hair out of her eyes. “No, they wouldn’t. They wanted us to live, you know, not bugger about crying over them for decades.”

She sniffed, but nodded.

“And I’ll be up to see you as often as McGonagall will let me.”

“And I’ll work really hard and get up to proper third-year level – you’ll see!”

David dragged delightedly at his brother’s arm. “Oh, Harry, look, there’s Remus!”

Remus it was, coming through the smoke and steam towards them, wearing a smile and far newer robes than Harry had ever seen him in.

“You took the job!”

“Minerva insisted,” Remus said, laughing. “Something about excessive experience in dealing with, uh, _marauding_ Potters.”

Joan and David exchanged puzzled looks. Harry and Remus grinned at each other. Harry craned his neck and smiled to see Tonks talking to Ginny and Mr Weasley, Teddy in the crook of her arm; Ron and Hermione had disappeared behind a pillar somewhere to snog, Mrs Weasley was ticking off Gin’s luggage on the fingers of her hand and nodding to herself. Neville was hugging Seamus and laughing; Luna was sliding her wand into the knot of hair at the back of her head and watching Harry back.

He grinned at her.

She winked at him.

The whistle went off; David bounced in excitement. Joan was grinning wider than she ever had since Mum and Dad had died.

“You’re gonna be all right,” said Harry.

She rolled her eyes at him. “ _Yes_ , Harry.”

“It was a statement, not a question.”

“Ah.”

He reached into his jacket pocket as Tonks and Mrs Weasley swooped down on David to kiss goodbye, and drew a piece of parchment out between his fingertips.

“Here.”

Joanie frowned. “What is it?”

“Something of Dad’s.”

“Something of Dad’s...” she repeated, wondering. “What did Dad want with a bit of scruffy old parchment?”

Harry laughed. “I have every faith that you’ll work it out, Joanie.” He held out his arms to her, and she jumped into them, his sister, his baby sister whom he adored. David burrowed his way in between them, and for a moment Harry wanted to cry – they were so young to be doing this, they needed him, they needed Mum and Dad just as he had –

But he, after all, had not been alone, and neither were they, and everything would be all right.

Hermione, hands on his siblings’ shoulders. “Time, you two,” she said gently. “Harry – look after each other, you and Ron.”

“As ever,” Harry promised her. “And Tonks no doubt will look after the both of us.”

“Tonks has better things to do than run around all day after you two,” said Hermione sternly.

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. She flung her arms around his neck – his and Ron’s both; for a moment they stood tangled in a three-way embrace, clinging tight.

 _D’you know_ , Mum had said to him last November, _a triangle’s the steadiest shape there is_.

 _I don’t follow_ , Harry had said.

 _Well, because it doesn’t wobble. Take stools. Three-legged ones_.

He’d laughed at her then – they’d been in the kitchen, frying bacon, and she’d smacked his hand with the spatula for doing it the same way Aunt Petunia did – but now, oh now. Oh, Mum.

 _Evans always knows what she’s talking about_ , Dad had said cheerfully. _Whether or not you’re paying attention is a whole other problem_.

I was, Mum. I was.

“Hermione!”

They broke apart; she jumped on the train, slammed the door shut. Hands clutching at one another through the window; Remus was leaning out to kiss Teddy a last time; Harry no longer knew whether it was Joanie’s hand or David’s or Hermione’s or Ginny’s he was holding on to and wouldn’t have cared either way. The train began to move, and he and Ron stumbled alongside it for a few paces before, finally, having to let go; gathering speed it moved along the platform and away from them. Davey was waving something wildly – Harry thought it was the same red hat he’d been wearing all winter. He waved back, laughing and crying at the same time, just as Mum had once been the first time he’d seen her face in the Mirror of Erised – just as she had the last time he’d seen her in life, in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

 _Go, go find it, destroy it, remember we love you –_

 _Remember we love you, Harry_.

He did. He would.

The train was gone. Beside him, Ron sighed; Mrs Weasley was sniffling; Tonks swore.

“Dammit. Hold your godson, Harry, I’m not walking out of here crying like a girl – ohhh...”

“But,” said Ron, eminently reasonable, “you _are_ a girl.”

Tonks glared at him.

“I can’t thump him, I’ve got Teddy,” Harry said cheerfully.

“That’s all right,” she said, eyes narrowing. The tips of her hair were turning red. “It’s only me who’s taking you on this training trip to Wales, after all.”

Teddy gurgled up at them cheerfully; Harry and Ron exchanged looks, suddenly rather more worried than they’d thought about this Auror training business.


End file.
